


Clair de Lune

by orphan_account



Series: Vampire AU-Second Storyline [4]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Background Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Historian!Deniss, Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Deniss wanted to speak to his late mentor in a clear night.
Relationships: Stéphane Lambiel & Deniss Vasiljevs
Series: Vampire AU-Second Storyline [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895323
Kudos: 2





	Clair de Lune

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're interested in this AU (and Deniss's struggle with his work), here are two other fics about it:  
> [Correspondences Between Vasiljevs and Cossade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582323) and [Editor's Preface to 'Of Love And Faith'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269217).

The night was clear when Deniss stepped down from the train at Montreux. He was living on Rochers de Naye, not far away from this little charming town. In good weather, he could even see the lake and the castle on it, where he was heading towards tonight.

He knew this road too well. He had been helping out in transforming the castle to a museum many years ago, when he would take a few hours off his busy schedule in the provisional government each week, to help the museum staff to restore the buildings and identify the artifacts. It was strange to call them ‘artifacts’, since he knew them and had even used them at a point of time. After he moved into the mountains, he had occasionally stood in his garden at night, watching the towns, cities and lake below.

Deniss knew the museum wasn’t open on Mondays, and it was exactly the reason for him to come on this day. Since it’s an integrated society, establishments were open 24 hours to accommodate different sleeping cycles of different species. Even though there weren’t that much people, vampire or zombies, who would usually visit museums at night, he didn’t want to bump into a group of visitors, nor did he want to be spotted by others when he was speaking to himself.

He strolled along the shore for half an hour, and took the steps down to find the wooden walkway. It had been renovated, and had become a popular photo spot; the view of mountain and lake was breathtaking here. Deniss slowly walked along it, and sat down at the end. There weren’t any safety railings before, but the museum decided to put some after a visitor fell into the lake when taking a photo. It wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing, but safety always comes first.

“…Okay, I guess I must look really silly now.” Deniss said softly, his voice almost inaudible with the water waves gently caressing the shore, “I asked Carolina what humans usually did when they missed their loved ones who passed away. I know Caro isn’t a human, but there’s hardly any human who was born in the 20th century and is still alive now, and any human who is alive now…I mean, things and traditions change over time, right?”

He drew both knees to his chest and rested his chin on the knees. “She told me that some people visited their loved ones’ graves, brought some flowers, stayed for some time and spoke to them…I mean, for us, it’s more like speaking to the tombstone or to themselves. I’m still not sure if the deceased can really hear anything, but I’m doing it for myself anyway. I didn’t bring flowers, although I’ve thought about picking some roses from my garden. But this is not where people will usually put them down…so yeah.”

“I’m writing a biography of you.” Deniss whispered, extending an arm to the front and watched the moonlight falling on his palm, “Or at least, I’m trying to. I’ve never expected it to be so difficult, because I thought…I should more or less know everything, shouldn’t I? I thought the beginning part would be harder, since I wasn’t there for the first thirty or so years. But the records are so well-kept and I could still trace them back. It became the easiest volume to write.”

He stopped and contemplated in the gentle breeze. It was a happy time, at least it seemed to be. He had written about the castle on the lake, exactly the one behind him. He had written about the gardens and parks, the green forests in the summer and snowy mountains in the winter.

“And as I continued, it became harder.” Deniss curled his fingers as if to catch something from the air, a stream of moonlight, or the chilling air at night. “I was stuck when writing the couple of years before we settled in Champéry. I could say I remember everything, absolutely everything that I’ve seen, but I couldn’t put it down to paper-or to keyboard, to electronic document, whatever. I kept adding and deleting things, trying to arrange them so that they could make sense, but it just didn’t seem to. It may sound funny, but I know they’re not making sense from the minute I finish a paragraph. I know some links are missing. I know people would not understand what I want to say. I don’t want to shove ideas and judgments straight into people’s faces-like what I did in the one about Chris-but I keep asking myself if a subtle hint is enough. I doubt so. I mean…I want it to be easy to read and…popular, maybe? I want to reach as much people as possible. But I doubt if people still appreciate that kind of writing. Maybe not, judging from the feedback I got from my last book.”

“I wouldn’t really mind if only a small number of people read my writing, if it were any other book. But this is different.” Deniss bowed his head and pressed his forehead to his knees, “This is…just different.”

He sighed and fell into silence for a long time, before a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. “I need to take a break from talking about writing. I had a few young historians by my side. Okay, being a…I won’t say ‘teacher’, because I don’t even know what I’m teaching them. I’m not even academically trained. They are just helping out, probably? But it’s still hard. I feel I had to guide them on the work we’re doing right now, and sometimes things can get frustrating.”

“Sometimes… I think of you, of the time when we were in Champéry. Am I finding myself in the same situation as the one you were in then? No, maybe you had an even harder time. There were so many uncertainties. Not to mention the work we were doing, we weren’t even sure if we were safe. Now I’m trying to write, I realize that we didn’t know whether we would have a ‘tomorrow’ to talk about. But why I didn’t feel that much then? Is time distorting my perceptions? Or did you have some sort of magic?” Deniss looked up and saw the dark outline of the mountains by the lake, where his little cottage stood. Although his cottage was serene enough, it wasn’t Champéry. Nowhere could ever be the same as the chalet in Champéry, without his friends who had passed away as time went, without his occasionally childish mentor. He was still hosting weekend gatherings in his cottage with his students over a pie or a cake, but it was not the same.

“Okay, maybe I had eventually to get back to writing. I thought Satoko’s would be the hardest to write, because she mainly worked in Japan and a lot of references are in Japanese…but not really.” Deniss said, “I spent a couple of years in Japan, learnt the language. Not fluent, but sufficient to get by and to read. She’s well remembered there, and I’m just…really happy about it. I know it’s not correct to say this, but I feel she’s survived by all those who talked about her fondly, who admired what she had done. Is it another way of living? Of eternity? I mean, I shouldn’t think that way based on my biological identity, but I can’t be bothered to think in ‘our ways’. Why should it be defined? I don’t see it making too much sense after all these years.”

The moon was moving to the west, and Deniss knew he didn’t have too much time before sunrise. Summer is beautiful, but as a vampire, he didn’t have the luxury to be outdoors often in that season. He pressed his palm to his chest, where the little packet of necklace was sitting in his breast pocket. He never opened it after that evening when Maxim handed it to him. For one, technically he couldn’t touch the cross. And deep in his mind, he was afraid that it would tarnish over time, and the color on the photo sealed in the round pendant might fade away completely. If he had never tried to open it, the necklace would always be the same in his memory, along with its owner in his best years.

“I…I wanted to tell others who you are, and who other people are. But the more I read, reflect, try to write and analyse, the more I confuse myself.” He lifted his gaze and looked at the moon, serenely lighting up the night sky. “I really don’t know who you are. I don’t know how to summarize you with words. It seems that no language is sufficient-I’m not talking about a sentence-long summary,” he smiled resignedly, “I mean, it just doesn’t have the power. I can’t recreate you with my words. I can’t show who you really are to my readers-if I have any readers. I can’t bring you back to life. I’ll never be able to.” Deniss attempted to stand up and grimaced as his legs stinging because of a poor sitting position. “I need to get back before sunrise…so, bye?” He smiled. “Well, I believe I said something like ‘I don’t know if the dead can hear’, but if you can hear me, I hope you’re happy…somewhere. With Chris, maybe? If you’re with him, maybe I’ll see you some time later.” He pushed his silvery hair back, “I hope not too soon. I still want to try to finish it.”

The old historian turned back and walked towards the shore. The castle stood silently in the moonlight behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I figured out that every time I feel stressed or anxious, I'll find this AU and write some more angst.


End file.
